


I Need Never Get Old

by Pinkmink



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Canon Divergence, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Human Castiel, M/M, Post-Canon, Retired Hunter Winchesters (Supernatural), TFW in their Fourties, carpender!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmink/pseuds/Pinkmink
Summary: It's a decade after their last hunt, and original recipe Team Free Will has settled into a life of domesticity - building a house, movie nights, and trips to Lowes. Everything is perfect, except for that little secret Dean's been hiding for the better part of twenty years. But they aren't getting any younger....





	I Need Never Get Old

**Author's Note:**

> So, first and foremost I have to thank the wonderful [WaywardLiliana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardLiliana) for her inspiration for this fic. We were discussing the idea of an older version of Dean and Cas finally getting the courage to finally hook up and boom, the idea for this fic was born. 
> 
> [WaywardLiliana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardLiliana) also beta'd this fic, along with [Tricia_16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16) . They were both so patient with me about a measly 10k words and really encouraging. Both women are extremely talented fic writers as well and when you're done here, you should pop over to what they've been writing!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy my indulgence!

_ I needed to try _

_ I needed to fall _

_ I needed your love - I’m burning away _

_ I need never get old _

 

Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

  
  


Hunters don't get to retire.

But then again, hunters don’t generally attract the favor of several different celestial beings (including the ultimate) and if he’s being honest, he and Sam should have died ten years ago.

Cas too, for that matter, after he sacrificed his grace to Jack to ensure the kid overcame the darkness from within. It was the kind he couldn’t just fight against - the kind that stood on his doorstep knocking - knocking until it was all Jack could hear. Until it was all he could do to keep his shaking hand on the doorknob and not twist. Turns out, Castiel’s grace could just push him over the edge towards the goodness silencing the darkness forever. So Jack could just be  _ Jack _ . 

And then Castiel was human. A sweaty, stinky human with an expiration date, just like the rest of them.

Dean was equal parts sorrow and glee, but he hid all of that away. At least for a while.

Anyway, retirement wasn’t something Dean had ever considered. How he’d spend his twilight years, after his body had started to grow creaky and stiff. Probably the combination of his lifestyle and the classic rock anthem “You never slow down, you never grow old” had made up his mind years ago. But nevertheless, here they were - Dean just turned forty-six, Sam’s still smiling about being in his “early forties” and Cas, well, Cas never really cared for numbers anyway.

They recently obtained a piece of property in the outskirts of Lebanon. Well, alright, it was the boonies - closest store was about a twenty minute drive. But Dean liked it like that. It was quiet, and they could have all of the odd occult nonsense they’d collected over the years scattered inside and out of the house without a nosy neighbor’s complaint. 

Cas wanted to build a house. It had been suddenly and strikingly important to him; the only other thing Dean had seen Cas that passionate about was protecting his family. But one night, over pizza, Cas just got this look in his eye, started going off about being a carpenter and the importance of working with his hands. There was probably a lot to unpack there about another famous carpenter and Castiel’s separation from everything divine, but Dean didn’t pry - just promised to him get the supplies by any means necessary. And build it with him.

(When he’d made the promise, he’d anticipated having to do some pretty creative credit card fraud. Turned out Jack and Claire had gotten rid of a banshee for a guy who was pretty high up in a construction company, and they got most of the stuff used or donated. Imagine that - actually getting rewarded for the job.)

It was hard work but  _ holy crap _ did Dean love it. Hadn’t anticipated the sweet satisfaction that comes with watching a door you built fit exactly right into the doorway you also built. Working with his hands, sweating, drinking a beer with Cas and Sam as they built this sizable house for the three of them - it was great. More than great. He came to realize this had been his dream - the one he’d never dared to consider.

But Cas? That guy was in his element. He drew up the plans, sawed, nailed, painted. All of it with a gummy smile on his face. Sweat dripped down his hairline and into the ragged collar of his shirt, but it only gave him a polished glow. Dean couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, or his muscles straining with the weight of the wood, or the way he could pick out growing specks of grey amongst the dark of his hair. 

“Lookin good, Cas!” he called as the angel walked by, balancing a few two by fours on his shoulder. The angel smiled and winked - still uncoordinated and awkward, but absolutely charming.

Sam groaned.

“Got a comment, peanut gallery?” Dean turned back to his painting. They were working on the kitchen right now, having decided to go with a slate blue for the cabinets. That color had just struck Dean, and he was insistent upon it seeing as how he does most of the cooking anyway.

“Nope.”

Sam was on his back under the sink, his long, bare legs stretching out across the fresh tile. It was hot, nearing ninety, and they’d all pretty much stripped down to shorts and thin shirts, and even that was pushing it. Dean made a mental note to move air conditioning higher up on their project list as soon as the house was completely enclosed. 

“Alright then.” Dean pursed his lips and dipped his brush back into blue. In the other room, he could hear the table saw pulsing as Cas sliced the wood for their counter-tops. 

“Only-”

Dean sighed. “You can’t ever just leave things alone, can you?”

Sam shimmed down out from under the sink and sat up with several more groans. You’d think he was approaching eighty with the way he complained, but it probably had more to do with his insistence on keeping up with his running and workout routine along with working on the house. That is just too much damn work - and for what? Maybe add year onto the end of your life? Screw that! Dean will take the year or two less in favor of burgers and whiskey and, oh yeah,  _ not running _ . 

Fact is, he hasn’t run in years. Hasn’t needed to, since retiring from hunting. And boy does it feel pointless to run when it ain’t for your life.

Sam reached up and behind himself to the top of the counter where his water bottle sat, perspiring in the heat. He took a huge drink before pressing it to his forehead with a sigh. “Dean, you’re so obvious. I’m just tired of watching it. Can’t you just like, tell him already?” Dean stopped painting and closed his eyes. 

Never again. 

Never again will he let himself get drunk on gin around Sam. 

Gin in mass quantities, turns out, acts as a sort of truth serum to Dean. If only all those angels and demons and monsters who pressed him for information over the years had known it just takes a third of a bottle of gin to get the truth out of him, he could have been spared a few black eyes.

And gin was never Dean’s go-to choice for booze. Which is probably why they’d never discovered it before. (He was frankly still amazed that at his age, he could learn anything new about himself.) But it had been cheap, and Cas had picked up a handle, and Sam had brought up Charlie, and before he knew it he was pouring out secrets of his life like a dam had broken inside of him.

Thankfully, Cas had been out - he’d gone to Jody’s to visit with Claire for a few days. It was just him and Sam around a freshly built kitchen table and fold out chairs, rolling over Dean Winchester’s worst hits.

It had just come out of him somewhere after the fifth drink. His face felt numb and his feet were cold and he told Sam that he’d been in love with Castiel for somewhere in the ballpark of twenty years. 

Sam - to his credit - didn’t really seem shocked. He had “brother empathy face” which normally made Dean want to connect his fist to it but that night had just made him stare into his glass until his vision fogged over. 

“You should tell him.”

It was simple, gentle, and kind. And true, if Dean’s being honest. But he shook his head. “I can’t, Sammy. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then I’ve fucked this whole thing up. We’re supposed to be three old hunters living out our dying years in solitude. And besides, he’d probably feel like he had to indulge me or something to spare my feelings because he’s so damn good and just - no. No. It’s easier to shut the hell up.”

“Living out our dying years? Dean, we’re in our forties,” Sam scoffed. “You’re such a drama queen.”

Dean raised a glass, too drunk to argue. “If the high heel fits.”

Sam clinked his against it with a sad grin. “Yeah, alright. It’s your life.”

And that’s where they’d left it, until today.

“Sure Sam, I’ll get right on that.” 

“I’m serious.” Sam pulled himself the rest of the way up, leaning against the freshly placed sink. Dean made a note to caulk it soon - then tried not to smile to himself at the world caulk. “Ever since you told me you’re in love-”

“Shhhh!” Dean yelped as the powersaw in the other room wound down. “Damn you’re loud!”

“I just mean-” Sam furrowed his brow and dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “I just mean, ever since you told me, I’ve been watching you-”

“Gross, Sam.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “-both. And I think he feels the same way. Like when he rubbed your feet the other night? When we were watching TV?”

Dean thought back to the Saturday before. He’d bought himself a new pair of boots, and the weekend trying to break them in had his dogs  _ barking _ . He’d said as much to Sam (whose new boots also had him in some pain) while gingerly placing them up on the ottoman. Cas came back in from the kitchen with three beers, and sat down to continue their Indiana Jones marathon. 

“I’ll rub them for you, if you want.” Castiel said plainly as he sat next to Dean on their new couch. The leather shifted and creaked and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He scoffed to cover it up.

“Little weird, aint it? A dude rubbing another dude’s feet?” God, he hated how much he sounded like his Dad. It wasn’t weird at all, two men showing each other affection, but apparently he felt compelled to make it so. Cas just shrugged, casual as ever.

“I don’t suppose it’s any different than when I was an angel and took care of your other ailments. But if you don’t want to-”

“Oh, well, that’s a good point. Yeah.” Why is he babbling like this? Someone shoot him, put him out of his misery. “You’ve healed me lots of times. It’s just like that.”

From across the room, Sam’s eye roll was audible, but he dutifully kept his focus on Indiana. 

“Here, let me try.” Cas didn’t appear to need more permission than Dean’s stumbling response. He set his beer down on the floor and reached over to pull Dean’s feet into his lap. Dean shifted his body so his back was against the armrest, letting an arm wrap up and around the back of the couch. The edge of his fingertips rested just behind Castiel’s nape. And then he tried to breathe. He was moderately successful.

Those hands. Jesus, it was embarrassing how often he thought of those hands, wondering how strong and precise they’d be. How much he let his gaze fall to them was an increasing problem as they’d set about building this house, and now they were kneading knots in his feet he didn’t know existed. Cas paused only to take Dean’s socks off, and then went back to work.

Dean was very proud of the fact that he didn’t moan out loud at the relief he felt as the tension seeped out of his body. Or at the thought of what those hands could do other places.

“Dude,” Sam said, interrupting his brief reminiscing. He cleared his throat. “You’re my brother. There isn’t anything I wouldn't do for you. I’d go to hell and back for you. But your feet are heinous. Nothing short of true love would make anyone touch those toes of yours  _ voluntarily _ .”

“I’m a goddamn delight,” he murmured. But it was true. A man’s feet aren’t exactly dainty. And while Cas loves Sam, it’s not as if he offered to the same after he was done with Dean. Instead, they just rested in his lap for another movie and a half. 

Dean tossed his paintbrush back into the bucket with a huff. “Okay so, what if there is something there? What if we try it, and it doesn’t work? You ever thought about that one, genius?”

“Way ahead of you,” Sam polished off the last of his water and tossed it across the room. It landed perfectly in the open trash can. “I figure if it all goes poorly, I can cast a spell that will make you two forget that it ever happened. You go back to being friends, no harm, no foul.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. Besides, how do you know I haven’t already done that once?”

“I swear to God, becoming friends with Rowena has turned your brain, Sam.”

“Love her or hate her, she’s clever.” Sam pointed to Dean, his lips pursed. “And you’re the one that wanted me to keep those lines of communication open.”

“Yeah, I’m a genius.” 

Dean closed his eyes while he breathed evenly in an attempt to find his chill, letting his brothers words really sink in. When he opened them again Sam was standing right in front of him. He looked up to empathetic hazel eyes. “It’s your life, man. But don’t you think you deserve a little slice of happiness? Don’t you think Cas does?”

And what - is that a trick question? Dean hasn’t felt like he’s ever deserved anything short of the rotten breaks life has thrown at him over the years. 

But Cas?

Cas deserves more happiness than Dean could ever give. Dean could live to 100, spend all of it trying to make Cas happy, die, go to heaven, and then spend the rest of eternity doing the same. And it wouldn’t be enough. 

Still, he shrugged. A non-committal response. And Sam frowned gently, resting his hand briefly on his shoulder before departing. Across the room he could see Castiel coming back into what will be their foyer. They’d opted for windows around their front door, but there wasn’t anything in place yet, so instead the afternoon sunlight shone around him. It sort of illuminated him from all sides like he was a priceless artifact on display.

He was beautiful. Not in a “gee, isn’t he aesthetically pleasing” sort of way (although, that too). But in a way that went deeper than his skin. Like a roaring fire burned just beneath the surface, and Dean ached to reach out, to get close enough to feel soothed in that warmth. Instead, he planted his feet on the fresh tile.

Cas seemed to feel Dean’s eyes on him and looked up, flashing him a small smile before moving on to the other room to continue to work. 

And Dean made up his mind, in that moment. Not now. Not today. Maybe not even this week. But soon. Soon he’d figure out a way to say what he felt. 

If only to make sure Cas knew how deeply he was loved.

* * *

 

It was funny - the moment his mind was made up, the thought of telling Cas almost itched. The way his brain had been so averse to it had flipped, and now it seemed to sit on the edge of his tongue all of the time. 

“Gonna run to the hardware store, you wanna come with so I can tell you how long I’ve wanted you?” 

“Hey, Sam’s visiting with Mom and Jody for a few days. Wanna test out my new bed frame?”

“Would you pass the ketchup, Cas? Also, I’m in love with you.” 

Sam would say that he’s unromantic. But the truth was that Dean Winchester, king of anti chick-flick moments, wanted this moment to be damn special. After all, despite Sam’s looming threat of amnesia spell (which, wtf dude), this was a once in a lifetime thing.

Which didn’t really help the pressure of the proclamation. He sort of wished he could just come out with it, like Cas had back in that barn. But there was little chance of a dying confession (unless it was from something terribly normal, like cancer or heart disease) now that they weren’t hunting.

He should have confessed the last time he almost died. A morbid thought, maybe, but it would have been easier.

His tongue was still tied as they made their way to the hardware store on a typical Saturday. They stopped for coffee along the way at this little shop Cas liked. Dean ordered their regular - an Americano for him, a tea latte for Cas. It was all terribly domestic, and filled Dean with this deep sense of longing. Like his entire life was almost, nearly at it’s perfect point. Just with one gaping issue.

Cas smiled at him as he joined him at the counter, waiting for their drinks. He’d made friends with a couple of the baristas, and was asking them about their coursework and studies. Cas had been known to come in and tutor a few of them on occasion on world history. One of them, a tall blonde named Regina, grinned as she handed him his drink.

“So, Castiel, you know the last time you were here, and my car was busted so my mom came to pick me up?” She spoke hurriedly, like she wanted to get to the punch line, but she waited for Castiel’s acknowledgement.

He furrowed his brow for a moment, then nodded. “Oh yes, your mother, Samantha? We talked about where I order most of my tea online.”

“Yeah, that’s her!” Regina squealed. “So uh, she’d kill me for telling you this but - she thought you were really cute.”

Dean stiffened. He took a shallow breath, and placed his hand gently on the counter, trying not to look affected in the least. Lord knows any strange movements would be picked up by Castiel instantly. 

“Is that so?” Cas mumbled. He looked up at Dean as if for help. Dean pinched his lips into a smile and gave the smallest of thumbs up. He hoped it looked encouraging. 

“That’s flattering, Regina. But I’m afraid I’m taken.” Castiel hadn’t taken his eyes off Dean and suddenly was beside him, placing his hand on Dean’s lower back. It felt hot as an iron, and Dean looked up stupidly, first to Regina, and then at Cas. “Thank you, though. Your mother is quite beautiful and very intelligent.”

“Oh - OH.” Regina blinked and then nodded, another smile crossing her face. “Well then, sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine.”

Dean and Cas turned to leave after saying their goodbyes. Dean could swear he heard someone say, “Pay up man, you owe me ten bucks!” but it was hard to decipher over the sound of his roaring heart beat.

Cas had let go of his lower back once they’d reached the truck, and Dean pulled away without saying anything. The silence in the car wasn’t charged or uncomfortable exactly, but it was heavy. He shifted in his seat as he pushed the truck into third gear.

“Sorry about that,” Cas said finally. He was looking out the window.

“For what?” Dean asked, which was quite possibly the stupidest thing he could say in that moment, but he was too dumbfounded to think of something else.

“For implying that we’re together. I just wasn’t interested in Regina’s mother.”

Ouch. That stung. Dean pinched his hands tighter on the steering wheel and took a breath. “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

They’re quiet for a while longer. Dean’s fingers tap against his lap, and he thought about turning on some music. Anything but this prolonged silence. 

“I don’t want to be with anyone.”

“Sure, that makes sense.”

Except that it didn’t in the least. 

“I have all of the companionship I need with you.” 

Dean gripped the wheel tighter as he pulled into a parking spot. He struggled to think of how to respond to that. Maybe Cas has been asexual this whole time, and he didn’t know? If he isn’t, should Dean be encouraging him in this moment to seek something more? After all, his feelings aside, he actually wanted Castiel to be happy, not to just settle into his one human life with two smelly brothers and a rickety house because he felt like that’s all he deserved.

“Sure, but I don’t give you, well, you know,” Dean felt a flush crawl up his throat. Why did he start down this path again? “You know there's things Regina’s mom could do that a buddy can’t.”

"I’m aware.” Cas said calmly, moving to get out of the truck. “I’m also aware that I won’t ever get anything like that from you because of your preferences. That’s alright. I’d rather what we have than anything else.”

“My preferences?” Dean’s arm shot out and grabbed Castiel’s of its own volition. “What does that mean?”

“You aren’t sexually attracted to men.” Cas clarified, his head tilting with that signature squint. “So while I enjoy the bond that we share, I’m aware that our deep friendship is the extent of what you can give.”

Castiel is looking at him gently, like the information he just shared is something he made peace with long ago. And it's an out - a delicious, tempting out. Dean could release him, shrug, and agree - nothing in his past would directly point out how very wrong Castiel was about Dean’s “preferences”. About the siren, his “gay thing” with Aaron, the looks, his thoughts, the quiet moments alone with his laptop. After all of the talk about their profound bond, how Castiel literally restored his soul, there were still parts of Dean that belonged just to him. That he could offer as a gift of knowledge to Cas.

And that, somehow, made this moment easier.

“What if I am?”

Cas let his arm down, resting between them on the seat. Dean hadn’t let it go. “Are you?”

“Sometimes.” 

Castiel’s eyes grew wide for a moment, but the rest of his expression stayed gentle. “I didn’t know.”

Dean smiled despite himself. “Obviously.”

The car suddenly jostled as something slammed into it. Both of their heads turned sharply through the window in the back of the truck, where a woman was running towards them through the parking lot.

“Sorry!” she called out, reaching the back of the truck and pulling away the rouge shopping cart. “Oh jeeze, guys, I’m so sorry!”

Dean let go of Castiel and they joined around the bed of the truck. There was no damage to speak of, not any that they could see through all the rust and pock marks that peppered the bumper anyway.

“It’s cool, don’t sweat it.” Dean smiled, licking his thumb and rubbing it across the chrome. “At worst, you just made it look more badass.”

“I’m really sorry - my son was supposed to be holding it,” she jerked a thumb behind her at a rather sheepish looking young boy. “And this damn parking lot is so sloped - you know, I went to the council meeting when this Lowe’s was getting put in and I  _ insisted _ on them fixing it, but you see how well that went.”

“It’s fine, really,” Cas said. He looked - well if Dean wasn’t mistaken, actually happy? There was a gentleness to his eyes, and he was smiling at the woman like she had just done him a favor. Maybe he was happy for the distraction? Maybe he didn’t like the way the conversation was going? Dean had been trying to steer it towards actually saying something of substance but - what if Cas could see that and was glad for the interruption?

And now Dean’s palms began to sweat as he shook the woman’s hand and reassured her. The sun burned on his neck and he couldn’t find the right kind of walk - did he always carry his hands like that? His legs felt exaggeratedly bowlegged. Everything about his body felt stiff and wrong, like he’d forgotten how to human.

Cas walked beside him up and down the aisles making small talk as they went. For a moment, Dean sorta missed that trenchcoat of his, the way it used to billow up when he walked briskly like a superhero cape. It’s been years since he wore it, since most of the year Kansas was either way too hot or too cold for it to make sense. He tended to bust it out in the early fall months, and it always made Dean take a few extra minutes in the shower.

Now he was in a pair of beat up Levi’s, boots, and a ratty old shirt of Dean’s that didn’t even fit his broad shoulders. The grey at his temples was thick, and showed up sparsely through the other parts of his hair. 

“Are you attracted to this vessel?” Cas asked quietly while sorting through a bin of screws. 

Dean wasn’t exactly sure he heard right, except that his heart sped up. “Am I - what?”

Cas plucked four screws out and placed them in a little baggie. He held it up to eye level to give it a final inspection, then pressed his fingers along the seal. “Attracted. To this vessel that I’m in. Jimmy’s. Since it turns out you’re attracted to men, I mean.”

Dean bit the inside of his lip. How could Cas talk about this so casually? Like he was asking about the fucking weather? He took a shaky breath before answering. “Uh, yes?”

Cas looked at him, amused. “Is that a question?”

“No, yes. I mean, that’s not a question.” Dean stammered. “Yes, I am.”

“That’s good to know.” Cas said, and then continued down the aisle.

Okay, what?!

Dean ran a little to catch up with him, and huffed. “You can’t just ask something like that and walk away, Cas!”

He shrugged, stopping in front of a display of lightbulbs. “I was just curious. You should know that I feel the same, should you ever want to do something about that.”

“Do something about it?” Dean squeaked. He’s grown ass man in his late forties who just squeaked and he couldn’t be arsed to try to hide it. “What does that mean?”

Dean would swear, til the end of his life, he never felt more turned on than this moment: Cas glanced up at him, his blue eyes bright in the fluorescent light, his lips wet and parted and  _ winked _ . “You know what it means, Dean.”

What it meant was that every ounce of self-restraint Dean had been harnessing for the last twenty years faded to nothing. Just poofed completely out of existence without a second thought. And he was on Cas. Pushing him up against a metal shelving unit and diving in. His lips were so soft, and curved to a smile as they kissed back. Castiel’s hands were in his hair, his tongue dragged across his mouth. They breathed the same air. Everything in the world was Castiel and everything was amazing. 

Vaguely he was aware that this huge moment was happening in the lighting aisle at a Lowes. Not exactly the romantic scene he’d hoped to set.

It didn’t last long - someone coughed and they broke apart with a gasp, still staying close. Dean studied Castiel’s face for an ounce of tell - something to indicate that this was a terrible step in a direction they couldn’t take back. But Castiel was the sun, shining up and around him, his lips pulled back into a toothy grin.

“If I’d have known it was that easy Dean, I’d have done that years ago.”

Dean snorted, keeping his hands locked around Castiel’s hips. They were so warm under his fingertips. “When did you get so sassy?”

“I’ve always been sassy - you just weren't paying attention.”

“I’m paying attention now.”

Dean leaned in for another kiss - tender this time, just the two of their lips softly brushing together. But it was electric, making his toes curl against the tightness of his new boots.

“It helped that Sam told me how you felt a few weeks ago,” Cas whispered against his mouth.

Dean’s stomach flopped and he pulled back. He wanted to be angry - he really did. It was a pure violation in the highest of terms that Sam would go behind his back and tell his secret without his permission. He was all set to bark something when Castiel diffused him with another wink, awkward and charming as hell.

“Don’t be mad,” he said gently. “We’ve both been idiots for far too long. Let’s not waste any more time feeling anything but grateful.”

And, well - how do you argue with that?

Cas didn’t let go of his hand as they finished their shopping. He reached for it again when he got behind the wheel of the truck and drove them home. He brushed their fingers together as they sat in their makeshift dining room during dinner, in clear sight of a brother who was doing a terrible job acting like he wasn’t staring.

Dean threw his fork onto his plate, exasperated. “Just say it, Sammy, before you explode all over the new drywall.”

“I TOLD YOU SO.” Sam barked and then threw his head back in laughter. Beside him, Cas was all toothy grins and crinkly eyes and not at all on Dean’s side. “Oh man, you’d think after 42 years, you’d have started to listen to me every once in a while, Dean.”

Dean grumbled - he could bring up the multitude of bad suggestions and choices Sam has made within those 42 years, but he didn’t feel like getting nasty. The truth was, he felt like Sam had done him a damn favor.

He was even more thankful later that evening, when instead of saying goodnight like he usually did, Castiel extended a hand while Dean sat on the couch and asked, quietly, “I’m going to bed. Would you like to join me?”

Dean jumped to his feet, and could feel a blush rise from his throat as he padded behind the angel through the empty hall.

Inside Castiel’s room was pretty bare - not unlike how he’d kept it at the bunker. An old boombox, a few phone chargers, a picture of he and Jack and Claire she’d given to him the Christmas before. A few scattered books; half of them lore, half of them paperback and borrowed from the library. The bed was made and pristine.

Cas closed the door behind them and leaned back against it. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but I thought if you’d like to talk-”

Is about all he got out before Dean’s lips were on his again.

Who could blame him? Twenty years of fantasies was a lot to make up for. He needed to feel Cas under his finger tips. Memorize the taste of his skin. Know how the shape of his body fit with his own. Let his hands tangle in his hair. Begin the delicious journey of discovering what made Cas whimper, what made him gasp.

Castiel liked to nip and suck at Dean’s bottom lip and alternated between them, as if trying to figure out how everything worked. There was only the sounds of their combined breaths for a few minutes in the room, before Castiel moved to the side and kissed down his cheek to his neck. Open-mouthed, hot, wet kisses. 

“Dammit, Cas,” he breathed, still pressing him against the door. Castiel moved down, his hands reaching around to rest just above Dean’s ass, while he let his tounge travel to the slope of his collarbone. It felt amazing, ticklish and hot all at once, and Dean tucked his chin to watch, as if he didn’t trust that this was actually happening. That he might wake up any moment from this dream. 

Castiel drug his teeth and bit lightly along the sensitive skin where his collarbone was the most prevalent. Dean groaned, reaching behind Castiel and pushing a leg in between his own. The grind was electrifying, and Dean could feel how hard Cas was in those beat up jeans. Castiel gasped as he did it again, and threw his head back-

Right smack into Dean’s nose.

“Shit!” Dean barked, pulling away, his hand instinctively lifting to cover his face. There was a harsh throb, then a telltale trickle inside of his nose. He pulled his hand back, the edges of his fingers now covered in blood.

Castiel’s jaw had dropped, and his hands froze in mid air as if to help. The shock wore off and his face fell. “Dean - I’m - I’m so sorry…”

Dean’s nose throbbed with his pulse and he blinked, using his finger tips to map out the cartilage - didn’t feel broken, but it sure hurt like a son of a bitch. It had sort of knocked the wind out of him too and he huffed, little sprinkles of blood covering his hands. Castiel hadn’t taken his eyes off of him, and that look - it was more than crestfallen. It was somewhat juvenile in its pure sadness, like he was just a kid, and the ice cream he’d saved up all week to buy had just splattered on the concrete at his feet before he’d even taken a bite. So taken out of the moment, Dean’s mind raced around what he should do next. The right reaction was probably to clean himself up, then gather the angel up into his arms and make him understand that nothing was fucked. A little bloodshed between the two of them hadn’t stopped Dean’s love for him thus far, it certainly wasn’t going to start now. 

But instead, he started laughing. He couldn’t help it. After all this time, and every step that it took to get here? Twenty damn long years? Of course fate wouldn’t just let them have their sweeping romantic perfect moment. Of course it was going to be awkward and funny and a little violent.

And truthfully, he wouldn't have it any other way.

He covered his nose and mouth to prevent further blood splatter. “Dude!” he said with a grin. “I think your head might be extra hard on account of how much it’s been knocked around over the years!”

Dean continued to laugh, which was a somewhat nasal sound on account of him trying to tip his head back and close his nose. And then,  _ finally _ , Castiel smiled. And the smile grew. And then he was laughing too.

Since Castiel had become human, this noise was a more common occurrence. Castiel would laugh at jokes (mostly his own, but on occasion, a few of Dean’s to pacify him), and sometimes Dean would hear the sound from another room and come to learn it was from something he’d been reading. Or a meme Sam texted him.

But it didn’t take away from the fact that it was still one of Dean’s favorite sounds, no matter how often he got to hear it. Castiel kept laughing as he led Dean to his bed, laying him down and sitting beside him. He pulled several tissues out of a drawer and busied himself with pinching the bridge of Dean’s nose and dabbing at the blood until it slowed to a stop.

They didn’t say much, just looked at each other, their laughter fading to soft smiles. Dean felt soothed under Castiel’s caring hands, something he hadn’t felt in a long while since Cas had given up his grace. There was no healing power in his fingertips except the love he brought with his touch. Dean would swear it had the same restorative effect on him.

“So, you just so happen to keep kleenex in your side drawer, Cas?” Dean murmured, a smile pulling at his lips. “For all those runny noses you get, right?” A running gag between the two of them - despite being graceless, Castiel never seemed to catch whatever cold was in season. Perhaps there was a little of the angel left in him after all. 

Castiel humed in response, and pulled the tissue away, this one coming clean. He tossed it in the wastebasket beside the table. “I had to get off somehow, since  _ someone’s _ been dragging their feet for years.”

Dean squirmed, frowning. “You know, you could have said something too.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I did. In that barn. When I was stabbed by Ramiel - don’t you remember?”

Dean thought he remembered that night well enough - or as much as he’d wanted to, given what he’d almost lost, and how his mother had betrayed them. “I remember you saying you love all of us. Unless you’re also wanting to get freaky with my mom and brother…”

“What? No.” Castiel said with a grimace, and Dean stifled a laugh. “No before that, I said I loved you - and then I said I loved all of you.” He paused, looking down at his hands as they sat in his lap. “That first one was for you.”

Dean had remembered how his heart had sped up in that moment, but pushed it aside quickly to take care of pressing matters - namely, that the love of his life was dying and also that they were likely to be killed by yet another Prince of Hell. It was a busy day.

But later that night, as he struggled to come back down from the adrenaline, to tell himself over and over again that Cas was fine, that he was just in the next room - he’d remembered those words. And swore he’d must have heard them wrong. 

“Why didn’t you say anything else?”

Castiel had moved then, letting a finger tip trace along Dean’s hairline. Of all the spots on his body that had started to change along the downward spiral to fifty, blessedly his hairline had stayed strong. Now peppered with grey, but just as full. 

“You didn’t say anything, so I let it go.” Castiel’s fingers danced across his ear, down his neck. The pads of his fingertips were callused, but smooth. “I meant what I said earlier, about your companionship - it’s truly enough for me. Though this other stuff is - nice too.”

Dean felt himself smile, stretching his neck a little against the touch. He could get used to this. “You can say that again.” 

“But is this what you want, Dean?”

Dean reached up and pulled Castiel down by his shirt. The weight of him was nice, thick and warm as he rested his chest against Deans. Dean nuzzled the side of his cheek until he’d turned his face enough so their lips could meet again, soft and pliant.

“So fuckin’ bad.” Dean said it so quietly, he was almost worried that Cas might have mistaken it for an intake of breath. But he must not have, because he grabbed Dean tighter around his sounders and kissed harder. 

Castiel fit perfectly between his legs, his weight a mixture of erotic and soothing. Dean kissed and licked into his mouth, the taste of him so completely intoxicating. They were quiet and slow for a while, taking their time. Until they weren’t. Until Dean sat up and pulled of his shirt and Cas did the same and it was suddenly miles of sunkissed skin and freckles between them. Dean’s breath caught in his throat, overwhelmed at the very real possibilities of what he wanted to do to that body.

“I need a gauge here, Cas.” The angel’s skin was warm under his palm as he moved his hand from his neck slowly down his chest. They faced each other, sitting up, and the space between them was hot. “Where do you want me to stop?”

It was sort of odd of Dean to ask, and maybe it took them too much out of the moment. But God, shouldn’t he? It’s not like there are rules here - no, it’s the first date, maybe just kiss, hand stuff on the second date, and so on. This whole thing felt so right and yet so fragile moment-to-moment, like a wrong word could change everything.

Castiel didn’t need to speak, though. He looked down then back up, his eyes raking over the exposed skin of Dean’s chest. 

Suddenly it hit Dean, how he must look - just this side of fifty, everything was a bit, well, looser, than it used to be. The skin at his middle had just barely started to show the effects of a lifetime of fast food. His hair was more grey than blond, and showing across his chest instead of just below his belly. Truth be told, he hadn’t been paying much attention to his physique as of late, and he was starting to regret neglecting it. In that moment, he was wishing his 28 year old self had gotten his shit together so that Cas could have experienced a Dean in his prime.

But none of that seemed to matter to Cas. His blue eyes feasted, and he licked his lips unconsciously. He was an predator waiting to strike. 

When he finally spoke, the words seemed to rumble low and pointed from somewhere deep in his chest. “I want to make you come tonight.”

Well that's - okay. He can live with that. 

They crashed into each other with another kiss - hungry and desperate. Dean pawed at all the skin he could feel, running his finger tips down his rib cage, pausing to thumb at his nipples. Castiel gasped, stopping himself just short of throwing his head back, and instead took to burying himself in Dean’s neck. 

“God - Cas,” he whimpered. He could feel his erection straining against his jeans. 

“Why are you still wearing pants?” Cas grumbled, pushing him back against the bed. It was a little rough. And Dean liked it.

He pushed Cas away, raising his hips and reaching for the clasp on his jeans. He raised an eyebrow as his eyes darted down to Castiel’s own pants and back up. “I could ask you the same question.”

Castiel smirked, sitting back on his heels. “You’re very distracting.”

Dean tossed his jeans and boxers to the ground in one move. “Shoulda seen me in my hayday - not this old sack of bones,” he joked. Castiel stood and pushed his jeans the rest of the way off and holy shit Dean had not anticipated how absolutely delicious his thighs would look completely unsheathed. They’d always seemed to be straining whatever fabric Castiel had chosen to bind them up with but now, here in the dim light of his bedroom, they were magnificent. Just like the rest of him. Lean muscle, sparse chest hair, and a hard cock that Dean was just gay enough to admit made his mouth water. 

Castiel said something but Dean didn’t hear, because he was already leaning forward to nip at this new skin. He inhaled the strong, earthy scent of Cas as he pressed his lips to the underside of his stomach, across to his hip bones. Castiel yelped and then fit his hands around Dean’s shoulders. “Did you hear me?”

“Mhm - get back on the bed.” Dean pulled at his hips and Castiel complied with a sigh. He laid himself down, unashamed, with his legs parted as Dean fit between them. Something in Dean clenched at the sight of him (could have been his heart, might have been his dick, good chance it was both) and he took a breath before diving back in.

“You know you’re beautiful to me, right?” Cas whispered between a kiss. Dean closed his eyes tighter and kissed harder, not knowing how to respond without making a biting comment about how only women were beautiful. Because in truth, the words made his heart stop. And he wasn’t sure how to stop the flow of emotions running through him from tumbling right out of his mouth.

“Shut up,” he said, but there was no heat behind it. He just felt overwhelmed and feverish and hoped desperately Castiel would just understand. He trailed his hands down Castiel’s ribs, stopping to grip him tightly at the hips. He thrust against him, their erections pressing against each other. Castiel let out a gasp and Dean wanted to record that sound. He grabbed at his thigh, hitching it up onto his hip to thrust again, when his hand brushed the corner of some fabric.

Socks. Cas was still wearing his socks. 

Dean leaned forward, a smirk crossing his face. “Real sexy, Cas. I like a man who keeps his socks on.”

Castiel tipped his chin up, playfully defiant. “What’s unsexy is cold feet. But you’d know all about that.” 

Dean groaned and dropped his head, letting it hit the muscle of Castiel’s chest. “Why is this not hooking up thing all my fault?” He wanted to really push the narrative that he was very insulted, but was momentarily distracted by an absolutely delicious mole that sat right above Castiel’s nipple...

“I was- ugn - I was afraid if I said anything you’d - oh, yeah,  _ please _ \- you’d freak out. As you humans tend to do.”

Dean kissed at the mark he’d just made, then looked up into Castiel’s eyes. “Well, I felt the same way!”

“Honestly Dean, when have I ever ‘freaked out’ about anything you’ve said or done.” 

The retort died in his throat. The truth was, Cas had never made Dean feel anything less than extraordinary. Like he was a prized possession. 

“Never,” Dean finally admitted, not shying away from the intensity of Castiel’s gaze. He shrugged a little, feeling emotion build in his throat, trying to fight it off. “Thats - that’s why I want this. With you. Because-” he took a shaky breath. “Because you actually  _ know _ me. And you’re still here.”

The words had hardly escaped his lips before Castiel was smiling. He ran his hands up Dean’s back and pulled him close, laying Dean on his chest. For a moment they were just quiet as Castiel ran his fingers along Dean’s old scars trailing down his back. He couldn’t see them, Cas just knew them by heart. “You are magnificent, Dean. Every part of you. How could I not fall in love?”

“Woa, woa, love? Buy a guy dinner first, jeeze...” But Dean was smiling because of course that’s what this is. At twenty years in, they’ve earned the right to skip the grace period. (No pun intended.) 

There’s so much tanned skin all around him and he wants to be engulfed by it. Castiel indulged him, kissing him hard and reaching between them where they’d both lost a little of their heat but it was quickly returning.

Dean gasped to feel that strong hand wrap around his cock. His instinct was to shut his eyes to the pleasure as he started to feel Castiel pump his fist, tentative at first - but he didn’t want to miss a moment of it. The wildness of his eyes, the way his lips parted to huff gently. He can feel his heart swell and he’s not sure if he wants to kiss him or grasp him or just surrender. His hands fiddle across Castiel’s chest to his hips, grabbing them tightly and thrusting. 

The heat between them was getting frantic - suddenly it wasn’t just enough to rut, to feel the press of Castiel’s dick and hip and stomach against his own. Dean wanted the fantasy right now - he wanted all of it.

“Cas - I wanna,” he began, the words catching in his throat. Dean’s never been at a loss of words before in his life, and especially not when it came to sex. But this was on a whole other level and putting to language how much he needed to feel Castiel inside of himself was new. 

He hadn’t stopped thrusting when he started the request he couldn’t find words to finish, but Castiel zeroed in on him, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and searching Dean’s face. Suddenly his hand was at Dean’s cheek as he breathlessly met Dean’s motions, and he was nodding.

“You sure?”

Dean paused, catching his breath. His hand had hitched up Castiel’s thigh again, and he surged forward, catching those dry lips in a kiss. “Yea,” he whispered against his mouth, his eyes screwed shut. “I need to feel you deeper than this, Cas. Deep as you can go.”

Cas moaned and shuddered underneath him and then Dean was on his back before he even knew what happened. The softness of Castiel’s duvet enveloped him, and he sighed into it, watching Castiel pull back and dig around in his bedside drawer.

“What else do you have in there?” Dean joked, trying to change the mood. It was getting too serious after his request and as much as he needed that connection with Cas, he didn’t want this to feel like the cheesy crescendo of some rom-com. Castiel’s eyebrows crinkled but he didn’t turn his head, continuing to rummage around.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he murmured, finally producing a slim bottle of lube and a condom. He tossed them to Dean’s side and leaned forward, gripping Dean’s thighs. Something about the show of force made Dean want to lie still and let himself be manhandled. “Maybe I’ll show you someday.”

“You’re cheeky Cas - but I doubt you’ve got a bunch of sex toys in your bedside drawer.” Dean rolled his eyes, trying (and failing) to remain unaffected. Castiel crooked his head, the beginnings of a smile pulling at his lips. He leaned forward again, reached inside the drawer, and pulled out a long black rod that curved at the tip.

Holy shit.

“It’s a prostate massager,” he explained plainly, like the thing in his hands wasn’t making Dean start to hyperventilate. “Very effective. I’d heard that as men age, they lose some of the functionality of their prostate and I wanted to make sure to try it before my vessel was too old.”

Dean’s mouth was dry. “Did it, uh-”

Castiel smiled and held it up for him. “Would you like to try? Or if you would like, I could just use my hands - I’ve done extensive research-”

“It’s fine, Cas. You can put it away.” Dean finally found the ability to form words again and licked his lips. Jesus, he didn’t know whether to be totally bewildered or hard as a fucking rock but somehow his body understood the correct reaction was to be both things at once. “Maybe, uh, maybe another time.”

Cas was cautious as he nodded, putting the toy back in the drawer and shutting it gently. He returned his hands to Dean’s thighs, lightly scraping his nails against the tops. “Have you ever-?”

“Just to myself,” he answered, forcing himself to take a deep breath and relax. The truth was he’d only tried it a few times, and it was more recently than he’d speak out loud. And it always involved some fantasy about Castiel, looking flush and strong between his legs. Just like he was now. 

“I can go slow-” 

“Just go, Cas.”

Castiel’s expression changed from watchful to something much more determined. The lube was poured and spread and then Castiel was kissing him again like he was running out of air and Dean was his salvation. His fingers were not tentative but they were gentle, circling and massaging him as his mouth caught every little gasp that escaped Dean’s lips. Dean wanted to blush but also wanted to force his fingers in closer, harder, faster. He settled for the latter but felt his face catch fire when Castiel added a second finger. Cas pulled back to watch him with a hungry expression as Dean’s hands balled in his duvet.

They stayed like this for a while, Castiel slowly and methodically moving within him, Dean’s gaze alternating between looking down at his spread legs and looking up at Castiel’s lips. When he finally met his eyes, Cas smiled, leaning down to pepper his chest with kisses. 

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” Cas said. Any embarrassment Dean might have felt from his show of affection was quickly extinguished as Cas added a third finger. Dean cried out with a gasp and forgot his own name. The bastard had done it on purpose.

“I’m ready, Cas - come on,” Dean grunted between clenched teeth. Castiel just nodded, pulling himself free and taking his time slicking himself up, watching the space between Dean’s legs with a raised brow and a small smile. He was just so damn casual about their bodies, no hint of shyness. It wasn’t as if Dean had ever really been shy about sex but this was different - somehow more intimate than it had ever been. Not just because they were having sex in places he’d only ventured himself, but because it was  _ Cas _ , dammit. The angel that built him from the ground up like he’d built the four walls that surrounded them now. Like he’d built the bed frame they lie on together. He looked at Dean as he leaned over him like a craftsman truly appreciative of his creation. 

“Dean-” he started but didn’t finish as he pushed himself in. Dean’s legs turned to jelly around him the deeper he went until he was flush, and holy crap, so full. Castiel was at once all around and inside of him and he’d never felt so complete in his life.

Castiel started to move but it was too much. Not the pain or the stretch, but the feeling - it went deeper than just this skin, like Cas was something else to him now. Breath and skin and eyes and lips and warmth everywhere. Cas pulled Dean’s knees up and pressed forward and down, rocking the two of them together.

This wasn’t going to last long, and that was a kindness. It was so overwhelming, Dean wanted to throw his arm over his face as he felt his face redden, his eyes start to water. “Don’t,” Cas commanded gently, nuzzling his cheek before kissing it. “It’s- me too, okay? This is-”

“Perfect,” Dean said, his voice cracking. Above him Cas nodded, a line forming between his brows. Great, after all that, this had turned into a Hallmark movie after all. But his fantasy of crazy sex could come later - for now he let his emotions dictate how they moved together, how his heart seemed to reach across the space between them to meet up with Castiel’s.  

In the end, he came first between them like a shot - Castiel’s strong grip around his cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. Dean reached down and arched up, painting the space between them, and gripped onto Castiel’s ass tightly, grinding harder around him. Castiel shuddered and came, his head dropping onto Dean’s shoulder, his hands still smeared with Dean’s release.

Dean was boneless beneath him for a small eternity. Finally stirring, he quickly dispatched their sticky mess with a stray shirt, then gathered Castiel into his arms. A shower could wait. Right then, he wanted his senses overloaded with Castiel - to feel the warmth of his body pressed against him. The stubble of his cheek against his chest. The sound of their breaths, heaving at first, then slower, slower, to something much more serene. The smell of them, their musk together with the heady smell of sex - God, he could get used to that. 

Castiel spoke first, a quiet rumble against his chest. “This isn’t just because you’re attracted to this vessel, right?”

Echos of their earlier conversation had Dean quietly huff a laugh. “I mean, you’ve got a hot meatsuit but no.” He buried his nose into his hair. These things were so much easier to say in post orgasmic bliss. “I was never attracted to Jimmy anyway. It’s you, Cas. Dammit, it’s always been you.”

Castiel shifted and then Dean is pierced by that blue stare. “So this isn’t a one time time thing?”

“I was kinda hoping this would be an ‘until I inevitably screw it up or you come to your senses’ thing.”

“You’d think an angel deciding to spend the rest of his mortal life with you would be enough of an indicator of your worth.” Castiel kissed his chest. “Guess I’ll just have to spend the rest of our lives convincing you.”

“Well, and if it doesn’t work out, there’s always Rowena’s spell.”

“Good point. And Regina’s mother.”

Castiel laughed as Dean squeezed him hard, tickling his side. They teased for a moment and then Castiel laid his head back on Dean’s chest with a sigh.

“I suppose if we keep this up, we really ought to insulate our rooms. Or maybe just move into one that isn’t right next door to your brother.”

“That would be a great idea Cas,” came Sam’s voice from the other side of the wall. 

They both froze, then quietly began laughing. “Sorry Sam,” they chorused. Sam groaned, and pounded against the wall twice.

But they weren’t sorry. Not even a little.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments totally make my day - please leave one if you liked it!


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